


i caught a moment (and it caught me)

by cyberglow



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alien Biology, Casual Sex, M/M, brief discussion of alien spirituality, mild... religion kink?? prayer kink?, you know where this is going.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberglow/pseuds/cyberglow
Summary: Aria knows what he's doing- he keeps watching Riker because of his interest in human body language, that's it! He's not quite sure why this fic needs to be rated so highly.





	i caught a moment (and it caught me)

**Author's Note:**

> look, i know basically nobody wants this, but i typed a note while falling asleep watching TNG telling myself to "write about Riker getting railed by an alien" so this is what became of that thought

On his first day off in a while, Riker walks into Ten Forward with the intention of relaxing, possibly getting something to drink, and seeing where the evening takes him. With these thoughts in mind, he scans the room for a free table and nearly trips over a crouching figure.

“I do not mean to be an obstacle, I’ve just seemed to have misplac- ah, Commander Riker.” A pair of dark eyes peer up at Riker from underneath a hood.

“Good evening, can I help with anything?” Riker made sure to keep his expression open and pleasant, just in case that wasn’t a positive evocation of his title.

The figure stands up and takes the hood off. “No, no, everything’s fine. I’m Ariauznai’il, Commander. You may just call me Aria if that’s easier.” The man extends a hand, slipping it into Riker’s for a firm handshake.

Riker gives an internal sigh of relief. “Of course, I remember welcoming you onto the ship. I hope the journey’s been pleasant so far?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’m still gracious for the passage your captain has granted me.” Aria bows his head slightly in respect.

“No need to be so formal, Aria. After all, we’re already on a nickname basis.” Riker smiles, all natural charm and confidence.

“As you wish, sir.”

Riker waves his hand. “I’m off duty, call me Will, or Riker if you want.”

Aria takes a seat at an empty table. “Riker, then.” Aria motions to the chair next to him. “If you’re not doing anything…?”

“I’d hate to pass up the chance for a conversation with such an interesting passenger.”

“Ah, flattery. I haven’t quite gotten a handle on it, myself, but I appreciate the craft in the hands of a master.” Aria doesn’t look Riker in the eyes as he says this, but focuses on the countertop, expression unreadable.

“Nonsense, I’ve heard you have quite the reputation.” Riker rests his forearms on the table.

Aria lets out a short laugh, more bitter than he intended. “On a tiny planet that’s still trying to understand the concept of antimatter, perhaps. Modernizing a religion is not as hard as it seems, Riker, when its followers have nearly forgotten it.”

“You downplay your accomplishments, Aria. Humility truly fitting of a holy person.” Riker says, smiling.

Aria snorts. “Hardly, to both. I’m no more holy than you are, Riker, and just because I attempted to help my people doesn’t mean that I’ve done something monumental. There is nothing innately sacred about me, just in the decisions that have led me to this point.”

Riker just looks at Aria for a moment. “I see why people call you a mystic.”

Aria goes on, nonplussed. “Honestly, I’d say that you’ve accomplished more than I can ever hope to. You have incredible ability at your fingertips.”

Riker narrows his eyes. “I’m… honored, but what leads you to say that?”

“Decisiveness, choice, is a thing to be revered among my people, Riker. It is only natural that I feel a certain admiration for someone whose ambition has brought them here.” Aria motions to the room around them. “Well, not _here_ exactly, but- to the Enterprise. Your reach extends throughout the galaxy, while I’m hopelessly limited.”

“While that’s mostly true, I don’t think you realize how important grassroots change is. I- we, this crew, generally don’t have the capability to alter civilizations past surface-level aid, but you can change the very foundations that an entire people need, push your planet into a new age of possibility. That has to count for something.” Riker says with a flourish.

“I... appreciate the new perspective.” Aria brushes a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “I must admit, you manage to be very convincing. As expected of a Starfleet officer.”

They chat for awhile, surface-level discussion about current happenings, what both of them have been up to. After the evening fades into night, Riker orders the two of them a couple of drinks, then a few after that. The conversation continues, but it turns to less formal matters.

Aria stares off in the distance with his brow furrowed for a moment, then leans closer to Riker conspiratorially. “I haven’t really gotten the chance to ask anyone, but are most humans as large as you, Commander?”

Riker chuckles. “I’m a bit on the tall side, but in general I’d say yes. Why do you ask?”

Aria frowns. “You’ve confirmed my suspicions. I’ve noticed the feeling of being shorter than usual, but I just took it as an odd result of an inferiority complex. Sitting here, however, I can see that compared to other humanoids, I would probably be considered… short.”

Riker laughs again. “It’s just something that comes with interspecies interaction, you’ll get used to it.”

Aria deepens his frown, but there’s no seriousness behind it. “It’s still going to be odd for a while. I’m above species average, I’ll have you know.” Aria touches his face. “And the… facial hair? I’ve noticed it with a few, does it have any kind of cultural significance? Maybe a fashionable thing? Berellians could probably do the same, but we’ve come to a cultural agreement somehow that smoothness is most desirable.”

“It’s mainly just a personal preference, although it’s probably a good idea to maintain it.” Riker runs a hand over his beard. “I’m probably due for a trim soon, now that you’ve got me thinking about it.”

Aria’s eyes are bright with excitement. “Fascinating, this kind of thing. I noticed before from the handshake, your hands have a different texture to them. Can I look?”

Riker, amused, stretches out a hand. “Sure, just make sure I get it back the same way afterwards.”

Aria is looking in rapture at the criss-crossed lines across Riker’s palm. “Amazing, there’s no noticeable pattern to it, but the creases have such an intricate grace- and the softness-”  He traces Riker’s palm gently with a thumb.

If Riker didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the alien was engaging in the ancient art of palmistry. When you pay attention, however, it becomes clear that Aria’s fascination is nothing more than aesthetic appreciation (not exactly hindered by the alcohol).

“Your hands are lovely.” Riker’s eyebrows shoot upwards and Aria cocks his head to the side. “I apologize, was that an unusual remark?”

“A bit, but that’s okay. Blame the unending labyrinth of human social niceties.”

Aria sighs. “Labyrinthine, indeed.”

“I appreciate the compliment, in any case.” Riker takes the now-still hand resting atop his in both hands, mimicking Aria’s investigative touches. He notices the thickness of the skin, almost like Aria’s entire epidermis is calloused. “You have lovely hands as well. They seem very capable.”

Aria chuckles. “Thank you, that makes me feel a little less odd and a little more appreciated.” He takes his hand back almost hesitantly after Riker lets it go. “I’m retiring to my room, but perhaps we can continue this discussion at a later time?”

Riker smiles. “I think I’d enjoy that.”

As Aria exits the lounge, he takes a mental note that humans are delightfully reciprocal when it comes to touch.

There’s not much interaction between them for the next few days, mostly in meetings where he acts as a cultural advisor and there’s a level of professionalism that Aria feels is necessary. It doesn’t help that Aria chooses to pass the time in his quarters for the most part, taking solace in familiar novels and historical texts.

His opportunity comes by chance when he observes Riker heading towards the rec room that functions as an exercise facility for the deck he’s staying on. Aria doesn’t consider himself much of a ‘communal exercise’ type of person, but he figures he’s been skipping out on his stretches long enough; his back and shoulders have started to ache with the genetic price for outer durability.

Plus, it might mean getting to observe Riker’s habits when engaged in a mind-numbing task; useful to compare with his usual body language.

When he actually gets into the room, Aria falters a bit; there’s only three other people in here, including Riker. His attention may be noticed, or worse yet, misinterpreted. He figures leaving as soon as he arrives will draw even more eyes, though, so he rolls out a mat, sits cross-legged, and contemplates his next move.

When he walked in, he noticed Riker’s manipulating some device Aria isn’t familiar with off to the right. The man seems to be letting his thoughts drift, eyes unfocused as he pedals his legs. Aria switches to a crouching stretch as he watches Riker.

Aria takes in the full image before anything else: Riker’s stripped partially out of his uniform, wearing a white undershirt instead. His mouth is parted slightly, most likely from heavy breathing. There’s sweat staining the cloth transparent on his back, further corroborating Aria’s conclusion that Riker is exerting himself.

One of the unknown individuals in the room leaving brings Aria back to his senses; he’s probably been staring for too long. He focuses on the movement of his own body instead, kneeling and stretching his back parallel to the ground. Breathes, steadies himself.

He doesn’t intentionally let his turtleneck ride up his stomach as he leans back, doesn’t arch his back a little more than necessary. And even if that ends up happening, it’s not like Aria means anything by it other than showing off. From what he knows of most humans, posturing in scenarios like this isn’t out of place.

Aria legitimately focuses on the next few stretches, giving into the familiar motions. He only sneaks a glance at Riker after getting through about 3/4ths of his usual routine.

Riker’s drinking water and looking unreasonably composed for someone covered in sweat. Aria watches him for what feels like a reasonable amount of time for acquaintances. That is to say, Aria has realized at least in part that he’s gone past what’s generally considered “friendly,” and inched into “oddly intense observation.”

To his credit, it doesn’t really feel weird for Aria until Riker makes eye contact, and then it is _definitely_ weird.

Aria has the presence of mind to wave, at least. Riker puts down the water bottle and nods his head in acknowledgement. Aria notes that Riker doesn’t seem put off by the attention; most likely because he’s used to it.

The shoulder squeeze and soft “you’ve got good form, Aria,” that follows as Riker exits the room is… strange, however. Aria makes a mental note to reassess the influence his own perception has played in their interactions so far.

It’s almost a week later when Riker approaches Aria off-duty again. It’s in Ten Forward, which is oddly reminiscent even given the short time period.

Aria’s sitting at a table drinking some kind of juice, absorbed in the twirling patterns of a handful of intricate metal pieces.

Riker approaches the nearest chair. “May I join you?”

Aria smiles up at Riker like he’s not quite used to the expression yet. “Of course, my friend.”

Upon closer inspection, there are two parts to each piece on the table; the outer layer is composed of thin, curved pieces with simple shapes (Riker assumes, in Aria’s language), which connect to the inner multi-sided portion etched in more complicated runes.

Aria notices Riker’s stare. “Scrying dice. I don’t think they mean much, of course, but there’s still some mysticality behind them, don’t you think?”

“I can’t speak confidently on the matter, but there’s something about the way they move, yes.” Riker watches them settle on the tabletop and Aria hunches over, squinting to read them in the dim light.

“Hmm… I don’t think they want to tell me anything I don’t already know.” Aria leans back in his chair. “So, what brings the esteemed first officer to my table?”

“Nothing except for casual conversation.” Riker says.

“I believe I can provide that.” Aria slides the scrying dice into a small cloth bag as he talks.

Riker smiles. “How’s the journey been treating you so far?”

“Terribly well, I’m afraid. I think I may have to persuade Starfleet into transporting me more often.” Aria takes a sip from his glass.

“No persuasion necessary, we’d be happy to help whenever possible.” Riker says, mostly confident that what he’s saying is true.

“My gratitude, as always. I must admit, many things aboard have fascinated me to no end.” Riker doesn’t miss the way Aria’s gaze flicks over Riker whenever he says this.

“Well, If we’re being honest, I did have one slightly ulterior motive for coming over here.” Riker’s eyes dart down to the table, then back to Aria. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve… been giving me these looks recently. Is there something you want?”

“Ah, you’ve noticed.” Aria fiddles absentmindedly with one of his earrings. “I’ve taken an interest in the subtle ways humans convey emotion through posturing, movement, the like. Body language, that sort of thing. It is often similar, but just different enough from Berellian expressions to be frustrating.”

It’s not a lie, not exactly, but it seems much more clinical in the way Aria words it.

“And you chose me as an example?” Riker says, amusement edging into his tone.

“That is correct, Riker.” Aria gives a half-smile, imitating the look he’s seen Riker use.

“You could’ve just asked me, y’know. I’m more than willing to help.”

Aria furrows his brow. “You are a busy man, Riker. My curiosity is not worth your time.”

“Curiosity is only natural.” Riker leans closer. “Honestly, anything you want is worth my time, Aria. Don’t be afraid of asking.” Riker’s voice, low as it is, carries across the noise of Ten Forward and makes Aria squint.

“Thank you. I’ll have to think about that.” Aria turns in his chair so he’s facing Riker. “This means ‘I’m interested’ to you as well, correct?”

“Correct.” Riker gives a reassuring head nod.

“So is proximity usually related to how interested you are in the person?” Aria asks and Riker becomes acutely aware of their knees almost touching.

“That’s… a general rule of thumb, but physical closeness has a variety of caveats.”

Aria waves his hand. “Yes, yes, the stipulations. Sometimes implying comfort, sometimes implying aggressiveness, sometimes sexually suggestive. I’ve seen you interact with a few women to get the general idea for the last one. Note the ‘generally’.”

“So do you… want to be more comfortable talking to women?” Riker asks.

“I’m comfortable speaking with women as other people with interesting lives. As I understand it, this is a good approach to any kind of social interaction.” Aria shakes his head. “No, I was just asking because I wanted to know if there were significant differences between what I consider flirting and what your culture does. I’d think it’s important to note.”

Riker chuckles. “Yes, that’s usually important. Is this to know what is acceptable as flirting or so your actions don’t get misconstrued as flirting?”

“Both, I suppose. As much as I can learn.” Aria says. “I think I’m okay with professional interaction, but purely social endeavors are… frustrating. Most people have been accommodating, but I still wish to avoid troubling anyone.”

“I’m assuming you’ve already run into some difficulties, judging by the way you talk about it?” Riker asks.

Aria sighs. “You could say that.” With a gentle elbow jostle and “c’mon” from Riker, he continues. “I was… there was a human man on the starbase I was staying on before. Nice enough, interested in me at least enough to hold a conversation.”

“Okay, so, you met a stranger, got along well, but then?” Riker asks.

“He challenged me to pin him to the wall or something to that extent, which as I now realize, was a joking request because he assumed it would be incompatible with my disposition and structure. He got a bit distraught when I was capable of doing so.”

Riker has to hold back another laugh at the thought of Aria holding a stranger immobile, both of them incredibly confused with the situation. “That _would_ be a bit surprising, all things considered.”

Aria rubs at his chin. “Yes, I can see that now. There are probably some sizeable dents still in that bathroom wall, judging from the state of disrepair when I was there.”

Before Riker can ask what exactly the context was, Aria changes the subject. “That is in the past now, though. I’d like to think I’ve learned more since that time.”

“I’d like to think so too.” Riker says, teasingly. “Don’t want to end up traumatized by your freakish strength.”

Aria snorts. “Traumatized by my physical prowess, I think you mean.”

Riker gives him a look, then says, “that’s an understatement.”

Aria cocks his head to the side questioningly, and Riker motions to Aria’s entire body. “Strong _and_ holy. A double threat.”

“You’re too kind.” Aria says, and it’s more serious than Riker would like.

“C’mon, don’t act like you aren’t impressive, at least to a meager human like me.” Riker hits Aria lightly on the shoulder.

“You are anything but meager, Commander.” Aria’s sudden stare sends a chill down Riker’s spine.

“Neither are you.” Riker’s whispering and he’s closer than he intended to be, perhaps, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the way Aria’s lips part a little.

“Perhaps.” Aria looks away, searching the table for something interesting to stare at.

Riker’s about to say something, but his comms interrupts him with a “Picard to Riker.” He sighs, then taps it, listening intently for a few moments. He mouths a “talk later” to Aria as he hurries out of Ten Forward.

It takes a couple of days for Aria to fully figure out what he wants to do about the whole Riker situation.

He’s in the middle of _Fortensa’s Complete Guide to Medical Entomology,_ which is to say, he’s staring at the pages and letting his mind wander. Relations with everyone he’s met on the Enterprise seem to be going well, which is to say he hasn’t sensed any hostility.

Aria thinks about Riker’s willingness to talk with him, his lingering touches. There’s certainly something there.

Did Aria always want for Riker to keep touching him?

Before he comes to terms with the full complications of that, Aria’s standing in front of Riker’s door already.

“Yes?” Riker’s standing in the doorway, shirtless. Of course he is, he’s been sleeping, it’s in the middle of the night. Ridiculously, Aria feels a bit out of place in his usual clothes.

“Did I wake you?” Aria says softly. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have come so late.”

Riker claps him on the shoulder. “I was just getting ready for bed, but I was planning on staying up a bit longer. Come in.”

They both pass through the doorway and Riker sits down on the couch, gesturing to the empty space. Aria sits, legs together neatly.

“So, is there a reason for visiting so late?”

Aria rubs the fabric of his sleeve imperceptibly. “You said that my curiosity was natural.”

Riker raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’ve seen you interact with people you have strictly formal relationships with, those you consider friends, those you’ve engaged in casual encounters with.” Aria tilts his head to the side. “Are you interested in me in more than one of those ways?”

Both of Riker’s eyebrows go up this time. “I think we’re closer than strangers, if that’s what you’re asking. By casual encounters do you mean…?”

“Those sexual in nature, yes.” Aria says. “Not that I’ve observed much, but I think I’ve gotten a feeling for how you make your actions have… certain implications.”

“And what other conclusions have you been able to make?” Aria had sat close to Riker to start with, but the way they’re both leaning in is enough for them to effectively share body heat.

“Well, I know you have an abundance of confidence, which is particularly useful in your line of work.” Aria crosses his legs. “You also care deeply and legitimately for your crew. I admire that as well.”

“Anything else?” Riker says.

“You want to fuck me.” Aria’s nearly draped across Riker’s lap at this point. “Are you bothered by that?”

“I don’t think so. Are you?” Riker’s eyes briefly flick over Aria.

“It would be a bit hypocritical of me to be.” Aria’s voice rumbles in his throat.

Riker’s lips press warm and insistently against his. As expected, he’s more aggressive than Aria observed at the bar, skipping the pretense of flirting and going straight for overwhelming. He’s already slipping a hand underneath Aria’s shirt to trace his back with fingernails.

Aria tugs on Riker’s hair firmly, pulling his head back. “I know you’re used to control, Commander, but I think it’s healthy to relax at times and let the universe act on you.

Riker chuckles, low in his throat. “I think I understand. I’ll stop being so eager,” He punctuates his sentence by lifting Aria’s free hand and kissing a knuckle, “let you set the pace.”

Aria strokes the side of Riker’s face with the hand he kissed, running a thumb over Riker’s lips. “I don’t mind eager. Setting the pace though, I think that will work for me.”

He slips the thumb between Riker’s lips, tugging his mouth open gently. “You know, there is a holiness to the mouth. So tender, so vulnerable.” He runs the pad of his thumb over the wide flat of Riker’s tongue, light enough to almost tickle. “I would enjoy doing many things to it.” Aria takes his finger out of Riker’s mouth, trailing it over Riker’s bottom lip before resting it against his neck.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Riker’s voice rumbles against Aria’s hand.

Aria tightens his grip slightly. “Be aware of what you ask.”

Riker chuckles nervously. “Remember that I _am_ human.”

Aria leans in, breath hot against Riker’s neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll stop when you scream.”

“‘ppreciate the mercy.” Riker’s hands are back on Aria’s sides, slowly climbing upward. Aria lazily trails open-mouthed kisses down Riker’s jaw to his neck, until he bites down and Riker makes a surprised noise.

“And I’m the eager one.” The comment is obviously meant to be joking, but when Riker sees the way Aria is looking at him it seems less so.

“Please do actually tell me if it’s too much.” Aria says, pulling back.

Riker brings Aria back, planting a kiss securely between the corner of his lips and his cheek. “I will. It’s okay, really.”

Aria smiles into the kiss. “Good. I want to be able to differentiate between the implications in your screams.”

Starting around the junction of Riker’s neck and shoulder, Aria sucks hickeys into Riker’s skin with surprising efficiency. Riker hisses in a breath through his teeth, but he doesn’t pull Aria off.

Aria thinks to himself that it’s almost animalistic, the way he savors the flesh between his teeth. Everything seems to be going too fast- too influenced by his own desire. Aria takes solace in knowing the darker purple-blue bruises will stay there for days to come.

“If I were a different man, I would’ve already ripped out your throat.” Aria pants into Riker’s shoulder, and Riker tenses.

“I wish I didn’t find that poorly concealed death threat as hot as I did.” Riker says and rests his hand on Aria’s side, a bit helplessly.

“You know I would not. But being part of your destruction is a deep temptation.” Aria digs the crescent moons of his nails into Riker’s back. “Especially with you so exposed.”

Riker huffs, tugging lightly at Aria’s cloak. “And you, truly a man of the cloth, huh?”

Aria raises an eyebrow. “You need only to ask, friend.” He undoes the top button of the cloak and lets it fall to the couch. Then, guides Riker’s hands to take off the turtleneck underneath.

Once it’s off, Aria smiles. “There, we are even.”

Riker presses a kiss into the hollow of Aria’s neck. “Oh, I’m not sure about that.”

Aria threads a hand through Riker’s hair once again. “I do not mark as easily as you do. However, I can propose an alternative.”

“That is?” Riker asks, and Aria trails his fingers up Riker’s thigh, making a detour around his already quite-present erection and tracing instead around his hipbone.

“Dig your nails into my sides when I fuck you.” Aria teases Riker through the thin fabric of his shorts. “There should be enough passion in it to nearly make me bleed.”

“I think I- ah!” Riker interrupts himself when Aria suddenly tightens his grip. “I can do that.”

Aria lessens the pressure but keeps up the movement, feels a bit amused when he figures out that friction is indeed a general factor of pleasure. He observes the growing desperation peaking out through Riker’s facade of composure.

“Wanna take this to the bed?” Riker breathes out.

Instead of answering, Aria stands and scoops up Riker bridal-style in one fluid motion.

Riker blinks. “I forgot you could… do that.” Aria sets the taller man on the bed.

“I aim to surprise.” Aria takes off his pants and drapes them over the couch, then crawls on top of Riker.

Riker’s eyeing the alien above him, lilac expanses of rough, bare flesh except for the trail of hair from his navel downward. A kind of antithesis to the dusting of body hair almost everywhere on Riker, Aria thinks. Not overabundant, but an interesting texture underneath the tongue.

Riker reaches for Aria’s hips, then stomach, then looks at Aria questioningly.

“Go ahead.” Riker slips a hand into Aria’s boxer briefs without much presumption, and still manages to be slightly surprised when the slitted flesh underneath his hand opens up and licks it.

“Ah. I didn’t realize I was at such a biological disadvantage.” Aria’s tendrils nudge more insistently at Riker’s hand.

“I assure you, prehensile genitalia or no, I’m very much appreciating your company.” Aria rolls his hips, crushing Riker’s hand between the two of them.

“That’s- ng!- reassuring.” Aria wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting going into this, but Riker’s unexpected reactivity is gratifying in the extreme.

As if reading Aria’s mind, Riker says, “I feel a bit embarrassed, being the only one struggling to keep composed and all.”

“It might be a species difference. Or a personality one.” Riker opens his mouth to protest but all that comes out is a whine when one of Aria’s tendrils wrap around his cock.

“Whatever it is, I enjoy seeing you struggle.” Aria’s thighs are in an iron hold around Riker’s, keeping them pinned while Aria strokes Riker slowly with his tendrils.

God, it was difficult to keep from pushing with all his weight, trying to reverse their positions, have Aria trembling at his fingertips. There was something in Aria’s voice, though, that made him stay obedient.

Riker had never thought of himself as submissive, or rather had never sought out anyone that would make anyone think otherwise, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

It also might have something to do with the way Aria lifted him so easily, even with their respective height and body type differences. Riker hazards a stroke of Aria’s thigh, feeling the unforgiving skin and steely muscle. Aria sighs softly, grinding downward one more time before reaching down and peeling off his underwear.

“May I?” Aria motions at Riker’s shorts and Riker nods enthusiastically.

“Be my guest.” Aria wastes no time in getting them both naked, practically tearing the shorts off of Riker and then going back to rutting up against him.

“Are you comfortable with the prospect of me being inside of you?” The question comes out of nowhere and makes Riker’s head swim a little.

“You mean… um.” Riker swallows. “Right now?”

“It is fine if you aren’t, just a suggestion.” Aria punctuates his sentence with a altogether too-chaste kiss to Riker’s shoulder.

“No, I, uh, I think I’d enjoy it.” Riker pauses. “How familiar are you with human anatomy?”

Aria chuckles silently. “Familiar enough. I do not aim to harm you, Riker. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Again, reassuring.” Riker has difficulty holding back a whine when Aria slows his strokes. “Although I do like the… unique brand of aggressiveness.”

Riker felt a tendril slide across his perineum, then farther back. “Good. Some find it offputting.” Aria leans in to nip at Riker’s earlobe. “Is it gratifying for you, to hear the desire in my voice? Or perhaps, the potential of yielding?”

Riker answers with a soft hum and a messy attempt at a kiss. Aria breaks away with a bite at Riker’s lower lip.

“You require synthetic lubricant. Do you own any?” Riker chokes on his spit a little.

“I- top drawer. Nightstand.” Riker manages to get out. Aria finds the lube quickly, which is good, because Riker feels like he’s going to wake up any moment now from this worryingly vivid sex dream involving an alien priest with a wriggling mass of tentacles for genitalia.

“I’m not entirely sure how this works.” Aria sits back on his heels, proffering the bottle of lube. “Not the bottle mechanic, obviously, but what comes after.”

“Here, let me- I’ll, uh. Get things started.” Riker can feel Aria’s eyes watching him intensely as he prods gently at his asshole for the first time in a while. Talk about performance anxiety.

Riker hears a sigh when he finally slips a finger in and he can’t tell if it’s from Aria or himself. Possibly both, judging by the volume. Aria’s still watching with that weirdly clinical gaze, like he’s documenting everything for future reference. Riker doesn’t want to admit to himself that it’s more than slightly erotic, because then he’d have to add it to the ‘questionable things that have turned me on in the last few days’ list.

“I’m not an expert, but I think that might be enough.” Aria says and Riker stops abruptly, startled out of his reverie.

“Right. So what are we, um, doing exactly?” Riker asks and feels Aria’s hands on him in response.

“Straddle me.” Aria tugs Riker’s bulky frame, a physique he’s rather proud of, onto his lap. Legs spread, Riker takes in a deep breath to force himself to relax. He feels the slightly-cooler-than-body-temperature caress of a few of Aria’s tendrils and leans up against the smaller man.

“I will be slow, tell me if you want more.” A thin tendril slides easily into Riker, followed by a couple more employing the same tentative method.

“I- I’m okay, you can be rougher-” Riker says and then immediately coughs as Aria stays absolutely still except for the tendrils inside of Riker, which are decidedly not.

Riker feels the smirk on Aria’s face instead of seeing it. “No thrusting required, I’m afraid.”

Another tendril joins the others and Riker bites down on his fist. Aria looks up at him with lust-heavy eyes.

“Do you mind turning around?” Aria asks and even though he doesn’t feel like moving, Riker gasps a “yes” and does so.

Aria pushes Riker, palm flat against his back, down into the bed as he reaches around with the other hand and lazily jerks him off.

“Fuck, I- can’t take much more of this.” Riker is fuzzily aware of the hand teasing his cock and the plush comforter his face is smushed into and the burning stretch of his ass.

“I recall you saying something not very long ago about me setting the pace?” Aria licks some of the sweat off of Riker’s back absentmindedly and Riker feels the tendrils inside of him twist.

“That was- ah!- before-” Riker tries to catch his breath. “Before I knew you’d be like _this.”_

“I am holding myself back as well as you, I hope you realize.” Aria says, composure finally starting to give way. “Especially with you like this, not squirming because of bravado, I’d assume,” Aria digs his nails into Riker’s thigh, “but prostrating yourself in an obscene worship before me.”

“Shit, you’re really- into this.” Riker pants.

“Look who’s speaking.” Aria brushes maybe a little too close to Riker’s prostate with a tendril and Riker bites back a yelp.

“You- ah- got me there.” Riker says weakly. He lets out an embarrassingly loud moan as Aria does _something_ with his tendrils that isn’t unlike being ripped apart from the inside out.

“Your body is a thing of pure pleasure,” Aria rasps against Riker’s back. “You tense and it is like the whole universe is at my peripheral.”

“Fucking- waxing poetic.” Riker gasps out. “Just let me come already.”

“If that’s what you’d like.” Aria says and suddenly everything speeds up and pulls Riker taut. He shudders as he comes into Aria’s hand.

Riker really just wants to roll over and fall asleep. However, when Aria looks at him with that hungry, only slightly desperate look and asks if this was over, Riker sighs and lies down on the bed next to Aria.

“Do you… orgasm? How would the end of this, um, interaction, turn out for you?” Riker props his head up on an arm.

“Something akin to that, yes. I’m satisfied with whatever you’re fine with." Riker’s mouth gets dry at the prospect.

“A handjob… is okay? I’d offer more, but if I’m being honest, you’ve exhausted me.”

Aria leans into Riker. “Friend, you need only offer what you wish.” It sounds entirely too altruistic for the situation and Riker has the wildly inappropriate thought of getting Aria off dressed entirely in formal religious wear. It feels mildly heretical, but then again, he _is_ doing... all of this.

‘All of this’ currently meaning entangling his fingers in the slick mass of Aria’s tendrils while the latter sighs gently into his shoulder.

“Yes, that works wonderfully.” Aria settles comfortably next to Riker, bodies curved in parentheses.

“So, you enjoy talking during sex?” Riker asks.

“Ah, it’s just a habit.” Aria replies. “I… suppose I do enjoy it, though.”

Riker gets more explorative in his touches. “What do you like to hear?”

Aria stops nuzzling into Riker’s shoulder and pulls back to look at him. “I… I don’t know. When I speak, I only say what comes to mind. What do you like to say?”

Riker leans in to kiss Aria’s jaw before saying, “It depends on my partner. I usually praise things I like about them, most people enjoy that.”

“What do you find appealing about me?” Aria near-whispers. “My scourge of a mouth, my gently sloping hips, my given strength?”

Riker makes his strokes even more aggressive. “All of that and more. Everything.”

“Tell me how you would treat me, if I existed in only your mind.” Aria breathes the sentence all out at once.

“I would luxuriate at your feet, praise your every touch.” Aria whines and Riker knows he’s chosen the right tone. “I would offer up my flesh to you in reverence.”

“And if I were to want you over me?” The phrasing is odd, but Riker knows what he means.

“Then I would savor the taste of your flesh under my tongue and bask in the glory of your body.” Riker squeezes a tendril and Aria actually moans for the first time, low and hungry.

“You indulge me to the point of excess, my friend.” Aria says. “I can’t say I don’t enjoy it, though.”

“Anything to see you like this.” And indeed, Riker is enjoying Aria’s slow unraveling. Almost as much as he’s enjoying the fantasies he’s conjuring in response to his own words, not that Riker would admit that.

Aria mostly just whines in response. He makes a whole series of them when Riker starts stroking in earnest. “I- ah- knew I would enjoy your hands.”

Riker hums. “You seem to be doing more than that.” When Riker threads his fingers around two of Aria’s tendrils and tugs Aria actually growls and sinks his teeth into Riker’s shoulder.

Instead of hissing in pain or recoiling like he thought he should do, Riker lets out a quiet moan. This encounter has irreversibly confused his nervous system.

Aria relaxes his jaw quickly after realizing what he’s done and opts to just pant into Riker’s shoulder. He comes like that, tenses slightly and sighs. His tendrils retract quickly enough for Riker to blink like he missed something.

“May I stay?” Aria’s voice is neutral, but his body is already curling into Riker’s.

Riker relaxes into the familiar heat of another body. “As long as you’d like.”


End file.
